Ouroboros
by Paranoid Blue
Summary: In a little house in the suburbs live a peaceful family. A man, a baby and his best friend. Unfortunately, a past as a Hunter is not easily forgotten. Now Dean must return that life to pursue revenge as well as juggle the responsibilities that an Uncle holds. Major character death. You have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Right, well first Supernatural fic. I've had this one knocking about in my brain for ages but never found motivation. Still here it is. I was inspired by the Carry on My Wayward Son lullaby. Go listen. Seriously, you won't regret it.

Anyway...Read, Review and Enjoy my friends!

_EDITED AS OF 17/01/14 due to minor errors. __should be good now though!_

* * *

From a distance it was a perfect scene. Velvety darkness fell all around, filled with the sort of sleepy hush that you have in late evening. House lights glowed from windows, between the slats in blinds and spilled in pools over the dark front lawns. One house in particular seemed to radiate peace more than any other. It radiated it from inside filling the area with a sense of contentment.

Inside the house there dwelled only a man and a young child though they were often visited by a man with dark hair and blue eyes. This was one such evening and if one peeked through the curtains they could see a touching scene.

The man was holding the child up in the air and laughing when their noses pressed together. Clear green to warm hazel. For a moment Dean faltered. At such close range Mary could almost be mistaken for his father, massive smile and all.

* * *

It had been years since Sam's death but Dean had never fully recovered from it. Castiel could remember the frantic call one night about a year and a half ago. Dean practically yelling Sam's name down the phone to him was more than enough to prompt Cas to run to Sam's house as fast as possible. Upon his arrival he saw the door askew, hanging crookedly on it's hinges. He ran up the stairs following the blood trail and claw marks while cursing his lack of powers. He reached the bedroom and darted inside only to stop at the sight that greeted him.

Sam lay sprawled against on the floor covered with broken glass, a halo of blood circled his head and matted his hair. Loosely grasped in one hand was a shotgun loaded with salt and the other reached out towards his lovely wife Emma or what was left of her. She was covered in deep gashes and was nearly unrecognisable. Heart in his mouth he made his way over to the newest addition to their room dreading what he might find. He was halfway there when frantic footsteps in the hall caused him to turn and pull out his angel blade falling easily into a fighting crouch. He may be low in Grace but was never unarmed.

The next moment Dean charged into the room looking around wildly. His eyes immediately latched onto Sam and he sprinted to his side and collapsed, checking for a pulse or any sign of life. Cas could tell by the angle of Sam's neck that there wouldn't be one no matter how hard Dean searched. Desperately, Dean checked Sam's neck and other arm all the while muttering to himself and possibly Sam.

Cas could feel his heart break. Even though he had a stronger bond with Dean he had grown close to Sam, their shared love of knowledge providing a useful starting platform. He had been at Sam's wedding watching tearfully from the front pew and at every barbeque or party Sam and Emma had ever thrown. Their love was beautiful, a shining beacon in the dark that Cas immediately latched on to given its similarity to heaven's atmosphere. To see such a precious gift soiled by blood and death but strong until the bitter end was almost unthinkable.

A sudden, loud noise jerked both men out of their horrified stupors and their heads snapped in unison to the corner of the room. An exchanged glance was all they needed before they sprang into action and dashed across the room skidding to a halt before the small wicker basket miraculously untouched by blood.

Peering fearfully inside, Cas crumpled when he saw tiny hazel eyes staring back unstained, innocent but quizzical.

* * *

The very same eyes were focused on Dean now and their owner was giggling happily. Cas watched as Dean's shoulders relaxed minutely and his smile returned. Job done, Cas quietly removed his hand and retreated to watch the scene from a distance, a full blown smile spread across his face.

He was just sitting down when Dean unceremoniously plopped a smiling Mary on his lap. Looking down in surprise, Cas did not expect the grasping hand that tugged playfully at his hair and let out a gasp. Behind him Dean burst out into huge guffaws and Cas playfully sulked.

"Right! Bedtime I think" Cas proclaimed swinging out of the chair with Mary still clinging to him. Shaking his head at the two protests he received, Cas headed up the stairs and into Mary's room. Thankfully, the child had received very little of Dean's influence and retained the easygoing nature of both Sam and Emma so bedtime preparations were easy. Soon little Mary was settled peacefully in her bed and was asleep almost instantly.

Standing in the doorway, Cas allowed himself to relax and take in the peaceful scene. He was unsurprised when Dean came up behind him and partook in the precious moment.

"She looks just like Sammy" Dean said gruffly "When he was younger I mean. It's not fair that he's not here to see this Cas. This was his dream. He had given up hunting. His life was just beginning and then it ended. How is that fair?"

Cas reached out and pulled his Dean into a one armed hug. "It's not" he replied softly "And it never will be. But at least you're still around to look after her. Imagine if she ended up with Garth or something"

"Yeah" Dean laughed quietly and Cas smiled.

"Drink?" He suggested and at Dean's nod pulled him gently away leaving the door ajar behind him, the soft tinkilng of Mary's music box still audible.

Hours later Dean and Cas were slumped on the sofa watching some old horror movie and enjoying themselves by pointing out all the inaccuracies when they heard a giggle from upstairs. Dean poked Cas then pointed in the direction of the stairs "Go" he said contentedly "She likes her 'Unca Cas' more "

Cas rolled his eyes but wandered up the stairs anyway.

Fifteen minutes passed and Cas still hadn't returned so Dean heaved a sigh and got up off the sofa. He ambled up the stairs feeling relaxed and happy. The door to Mary's room was open and the music box could still be heard. He stopped at the doorway and looked in with a mischevious remark that died in his throat. There was a man standing next to the bed but it wasn't Cas. He had an arm stretching over the cot, a knife in the other and his eyes fixed on Mary.

Dean caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. His eyes were black.

Dean froze, looking around wildly. "Where is Cas you son of a bitch" he growled. The demon lazily gestured upwards. Dean glanced up and his eyes grew wide and panicked. Cas was stuck to the ceiling unable to make a sound and staring at Dean apologetically. Suddenly the demon clicked his fingers and Dean cried out desperately as flames erupted around Cas.

"Catch you later Winchester" the demon taunted before pouring out of its vessel and through the window.

Looking up in panic Dean bitterly realised that it was too late for Cas. He was completely unrecognisable as his oldest friend and the flames had spread down the walls.

Grabbing a crying Mary, Dean rushed from the house the words his father uttered all those years echoing in his ears. They made it ouside and could only watch as the house was consumed by flames. Looking down at Mary, Dean noticed dark spots around her mouth and gently swiped at one. It was blood.

A quick stock of Mary revealed no injuries, he had none and it couldn't have been Cas which left only one option.

Dean broke down and collapsed. His brother was dead, his only friend was dead, his niece was facing a tainted life and he was alone. History was repeating itself and Dean was helpless to its pull. Long forgotten words of Lucifer stole unbidden to his mind

"Whatever you do, you will always end up here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter,we will always end up... here"

Dean cried.

* * *

P.S...I don't actually own these characters btw. I just borrow and play games with them. All rights belong to their original owner yada yada yada...

Peace out Homies!


	2. Chapter 2

_Well...Let me tell you that originally I had no plans on expanding this story but thanks to the wonderful ideas and motivation of the amazing **TheFAYZianQuaff, **I decided that maybe I could work on this more and actually produce a (hopefully) decent story. Now in this fic I have an OC *gasp* so I'd really appreciate feedback on her and let me know if I'm going overboard on her and delving into Mary Sueness. Aside from that, Read, Review and Enjoy I guess!_

* * *

Dawn's light flooded over the horizon. Birds began to sing and in the distance the quiet rumble of traffic could be heard. Light glinted off the shiny exterior of the Impala causing the man seated there to wince. In his lap a little girl began to stir, hazel eyes blinking slowly.

Dean knew that he should have found a motel or something for the night but Mary had inherited her fathers eyes and with them came the infamous puppy stare. The way she begged to stay last night tugged on his heart strings and he harboured a sneaking suspicion that Cas had been coaching her. Thinking about Cas caused him to stiffen and wince again.

Detecting the tension in her pillow, Mary turned and stared up at him.

"What's wrong Unca' Dean?" she asked. Dean relaxed at the sound of her voice and he squeezed her in a semi-hug shaking his head softly. "It's the house" Mary decided with her mothers firm tone "I want to see it"

Dean started in surprise and cleared his throat "I don't think that's the best idea" he managed eventually. Mary hauled herself upright and leant against him looking up at him "I want to. Please?"

And there were those accursed eyes again. Dean never could refuse them. He folded.

Sombrely, Mary and Dean left the car and surveyed the scene in front of them. What had once been a quaint family home was a pile of blackened rubble. Dean silently extended his hand and moments later a small one slipped into it. With one last squeeze they set off up the path taking in the destruction.

Gone were the flowers, gone was the tree under which Mary played and Dean reclined on hot days. Puddles of water lay on what remained of the grass from the powerful hoses that tried in vain to battle the roaring flames. Finally they reached the entrance.

Mary squeezed Dean's hand again on reflex and took a deep breath. Together they stepped over the front door and began picking their way through the debris. They reached what used to be the sitting room and a splash of colour caught Dean's eyes. Bending down, he rooted around until he found it.

Sitting in his palm staring up at him was an old picture. In it, a flustered Cas was being chased by a squirrel while off to the side Sam had collapsed in laughter and Dean was bracing himself against a tree. He remembered the day well. Sam's wife Emma was determined to document every time the family had gotten together. It was one of the only existing pictures of the Winchesters where they were happy.

Looking at it now, a single snapshot at a time when all was well made Dean's fists clench uncontrollably. Why couldn't it stay like that? Why did hunting always, _always_ come back to bite you long after you thought you were done. Why? Hadn't they given up enough already? Why were Dean's brother and best friend taken from him? What purpose did it serve? Why!?

A sudden warm weight on his legs brought him back to himself and he realised that he was trembling. Looking down he registered a small brown lump stuck to him and smiled. He stroked Mary's hair softly.

"Let's go and see if we can find anything yeah?" he asked

"Yeah" Mary replied softly.

About half an hour later, Dean and Mary regrouped to show their findings. Mary held up her favourite stuffed toy which was only singed and a strange bluish-black rock. Taking them from her, Dean set down the music box he was carrying and inspected them. The stone, though porous, was smooth and glass like. Pondering the strange combination he fiddled with it absent mindedly for a minute before deeming it safe and handing it back. Then he checked the toy. Apart from a partly burned antler the moose plushie would be perfectly okay after a wash. Smiling Dean stroked it's soft fur and handed it back. Sam's face when Mary opened Cas's present was firmly etched into his memory.

* * *

It was Mary's first Christmas and they had gone all out. Having lacked a proper Christmas when he was young, Sam insisted on the best damn Christmas ever. His fussing and mother henning was a source of amusement and annoyance for all other members of the family. They sat back and watched as he tried to organise everything from the decorations to the dinner.

Finally the morning arrived and not a moment too soon. Sam was liable to be tied up with his precious tinsel if he continued the way he was. First thing was presents. All Sam's careful wrapping was destroyed in no time and then, moments later, a knock on the door signified the arrival of Cas and Dean with arms full of presents. Laughing with joy, a young Mary had torn through them all while Emma videoed her and Sam proudly watched .

Alerted by his brothers snickering, Sam turned around only to whip back at Mary's delighted squeak and Emma's loud laughter. In her arms, Mary clutched a small soft moose with 'Sam' on the label which she immediately and inventivley named Moose. Scowling, Sam faced Dean and Cas with his best bitchface. Still laughing, Dean pointed at Cas whose eyes were twinkling with mischief. "I had hoped she'd name it Daddy" he managed poker faced before joining Emma and Dean in hysterics after a few seconds. Sam's lips twitched and soon he was laughing along while Mary made Moose prance around her.

* * *

Dean smiled thinking back on it. Everything had been so easy then, before his past came back to haunt him.

A noise jerked him out of his revere. Mary had picked up the music box and had wound it up. Smiling happily she swayed slightly to the tune, eyes shut tight. Perhaps she too was remembering a time when she had a room to call home, where this box lulled her to sleep each night, where they were happy.

The box stopped, the twinkling melody cut short in mid bar. Mary closed it and admired the morning light glinting off of the silver embellishments. It had been a birthday gift from Dean and he was relieved that it had survived. At least something was salvageable. With a sigh, he scanned the rubble. Nothing else had survived. Him and Mary literally had the clothes on their backs and the Impala. Everything else was gone. He dusted off his jeans and caught Mary surreptitiously rubbing her nose. Now that he noticed it, the morning breeze was stirring up the ash.

"Time to go I think" he muttered scooping Mary up into his arms. Dean carefully navigated the ruins until they reached the path, then he set her down. Together they turned and watched in silence as the sun finally rose, spilling it's light over the blackened remains. Dean extended his hand as he did before and, like before, Mary slipped hers into it.

"I miss it" she whispered quietly.

"Me too" returned Dean.

They waited a bit longer. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours. All they were aware of was each others hand clasped tightly in their own and the lazy spirals of rising ash.

Finally, Mary pulled Dean's hand slightly in the direction of the Impala. "Let's go" she said "I've said goodbye"

Wistfully, Dean allowed himself to be led away distantly aware that Mary was acting far too mature for her age. He hoped that she wouldn't be forced into the life that he and Sam had had but knew that since Demons had found him, it wouldn't be long before hunting crept up on them again. His only consolation was that Mary had a better shot of a normal life than he ever did. Having raised Sam, he was aware of the needs of a child more than he was back then and by using all the resources available to him, he would keep her life as stable as possible.

Mind determined, Dean caught up to Mary and walked by her side. The Impala glowed in the Sun and silhouetted the two figures. One Tall, one small but both with a purposeful walk. Each step carried them further away from their old, safe life and onwards into the unknown. They had each other. That was all that mattered. And as they reached the doors of the slick, black car, they both cast a final glance over their shoulders at the charred remains.

* * *

_Reminder: I do not own Supernatural or anything to do with it. I do, however, own Mary, technically speaking of course._


End file.
